Tonight I Will Sleep In Kolkata

Tonight I will sleep in Kolkata for the first time.  The days since my last post have been even tougher and culminated with a 2 hr nightmare bus journey with about 150 other people.

After Balasore I continued on and wanting to get off this highway I headed for the coast and the delights of Digha.  The day was hot and long and I was still being very slow.  When I finally arrived I set about finding a hotel which at first sight should have been a breeze.  Digha is a kind of Bangladeshi version of Blackpool.  If you don't know this place look it up.  There are scores of hotels so I selected a clean looking one and asked for a room - no room for me.  So to the next and the next and the next.  I tried 10 hotels before discovering that there is some sort of global "no-singles" policy in town.  As a last resort (really last resort) I tried a guesthouse I had passed in a side street and was rented a dingy room for an unreasonable amount of money.  After chewing the fat with some of the locals on plastic chairs outside the guesthouse I set off to look for some food.  I have been really put of the usual Indian fare which is a shame, as I love it.  It seems it was my day for unsuccessful trying today.  It took me about 8 restaurants to find some one to make me eggs on toast.  Suitable full of egg I wandered down to the shore to see the delights of nocturnal Digha.  By the light of a thousand bulbs and a million stars row upon row of souvenir stalls touted their wares.  Throngs of tourists browsed and grazed their way through the evening.  Change the colour of peoples skins and it could have been anywhere from Coney Island to Blackpool. 
The next morning I set off for Haldia and the promised ferry to Kolkata.  The signs suggested a journey of 75 kms and my recently acquired sat nav even less. The vagaries of the Indian roads and road signs led to a ride of 95 kms once again.  The day was very hot and I tried to stop in the shade for a bit if a doze at one point but soon gave up.  The Bengalis are much more "in your face" than most other Indians I have met.  They are happy to stand 3 feet away in groups and discuss you, with their friends, in loud voices and with much touching of my stuff to boot.  The end of this day proved to be the hardest I have had to date.  It should have been easy but during the last hour if someone had offered me a ride home I would have taken it.  One incident did help me though.  I was 14 kms from Haldia and my moral was in my boots.  The road was incredibly busy and noisy.  Darkness was falling and I was starting to worry about my safety.  I had just been hassled by the police for no obvious reason.  Then I saw an old man holding the rope round the neck of a dead calf.  The animal had obviously been hit by a vehicle and killed.  A small crowd stood and watched.  As I approached the man continued to stand, holding the rope as if waiting for his cow to get up and move.  I cycled path and looking back over my shoulder I could see the old man was still waiting as if in a tableau.  This small cow must have been of great importance to the man and perhaps to his entire family.  I stopped to take a drink and watched as he continued to hold the rope and stare at the dead beast perhaps lacking the belief or the courage to let go of the rope.
The next day I discovered that Haldia is not the place to get a ferry to Diamond Harbour.  You actually need to go to a small town 25 kms up the road.  When I got there I asked if there was a ferry to Kolkata, was told yes and duly bought a ticket.  Once on the ferry all was going well until we pulled into another small town on the opposite side of the river.  Rather like the old man the night before I stood and waited for the boat to move again.  Like him I was still waiting even when it was obviously no use.  Last off I finally admitted to myself that the ferry does not go to Kolkata.  So I caught a bus.

Anyway I am here now and 1st impressions are good.  My room is standard but with HOT WATER, the first for nearly a month.  The bazaar area near Sudder Street is frantic and very friendly.  I am still a bit off colour so I will seek comfort in spaghetti tonight and then exploring time tomorrow.

Regurgitating an Old Blog Page

I wrote this some years ago and it is part of "Another blog that might interest".  I still think it holds true so I thought I would post it again.

We have arrived in Pondycherry after a 2 hour re-acquaintance with Indian driving. Here are the simple rules you too will need to follow when you take to the wheel Indian style.
1. Might is right. Cyclists force pedestrians off the road: rickshaws force cyclists off the road: in turn they are forced off the road by the cars who bow down before the trucks and buses.
2. Add an impossible number of motor cycles into the above mix. They do not appear in the hierarchy but circulate at speed in amongst the rest of the traffic.
3. The surprise element, if needed, is the cow. They walk, stand and even sleep where ever they like, including the highway.
4. Put your newly acquired mobile phone to your ear and devote most of your attention to your friend, cousin, barber, whoever...
5. If you are on a motorcycle or bicycle, balance something impossibly large and unwieldy somewhere on the machine where you can't quite control it.
6. Drive on the left, India is after all a civilised country, unless it is either a) closer to where you are going to by using the right b) quicker by using the right c) you just feel like using the right.
7. At all occasions use the horn. For example, at a junction, when over taking, when undertaking, on a blind bend, at a slight dip in the road, when passing a dog-goat-cow-little old lady, in heavy traffic, in light traffic, when you are on a wide, empty straight road with not another living soul in sight.
Follow these few simple rules dear reader and you too will soon be an accomplished Indian driver. Feel free to improvise and throw in the odd improbable move as the moment takes you, it will just add to your style.

The Long not Winding Road Continues

The long not winding road continues towards the vanishing point.  I don't know if it is the sameness of it all but I am having real trouble pushing the pedals round.  Yesterday and today have been relatively short days so they should have been easy, but they have been the 2 hardest days so far.  I seem to need to stop every 5ks or so and have an overwhelming desire to go to sleep.  Even my normal 30ks of hard fast riding in the cool of the morning only lasted 15 ks this morning.  I might just be a bit off colour, or perhaps it's this bloody road.
Enough of the complaining.  I am now in Balasore which is just before the West Bengal border.  It is a fairly typical Indian town but has a great many Police establishments.  From Training Colleges to Officers Clubs to Barracks these seem to dominate the approaches from the south and the west.  The rest of the town is pretty standard and I eventually found a hotel at a reasonable price.  Last night I stayed in an upmarket place for 1050/- in an A/C room.  Here the first two "hotels", I use the word with some reservations, wanted 1500/- and 2500/- respectively.  The hotel I have chosen is a bit of a pit, but at 250/- a cheap pit.  So dhobi done I sallied forth and discovered they had a great restaurant - bonus.
Most people I meet seem somewhat perplexed as to why I am making this journey and why particularly on a bike.  I can obviously, as a westerner, afford to do all the visiting I want by car, bus or train.  So the hot, difficult and sweaty choice of the bike is difficult to understand.  All I can say is that I like to cycle, that I love India and that the bike is a good way to do it.  This is all true but I have deeper motivations which I get a lot of time to think about whilst cycling.  This has been a journey of discovery for me and it is not over yet....

The Long not Winding Road

The NH5 is a long not winding road through flat countryside filled with paddy fields.  I set out from Bhubaneswar toward Cuttack and then onwards.  Once out of the towns it really was featureless and almost straight as a die.  I seem to have mislaid the mp3 player or lost it all together so there was no music to listen to.  All in all it made for hot and boring 130ks.  However I have met some of the nicest kindest people who have taken their time to help me on my way.  After my 10/- breakfast I met some guys at the chai stall who bought me chai and explained the route to me.  At lunch (a really good 30/- thali) more help and advice and lots of friendly chat.  There is a town I was heading for on the map which does not exist but nearby there is another one.  I pulled off the highway and asked directions of a rickshaw driver but we couldn't understand each other.  Waves and shouts from the shade of a cafe drew me over and I spent a very happy half hour cooling down, drinking sprite and getting directions for the last 15kmsfrom a group of blokes who seemed to have been put there just for me.  They all spoke English and the patriarch was a particularly interesting and cultured gentleman.  My last meeting of the day was a young guy on a Hero Honda ( I know I've been unkind before) who guided me through a labyrinth of villages and unmade roads to the temple I was heading for in Jajpur and then my hotel.  I now have a vast room with ceiling fan and a working shower.  The only downside of the whole day is the temple which I, as a non-Hindu, can't visit.  I also mis-timed my evening meal and arrived at the only restaurant in town just as it sold out and shut. 
One of the things I have noticed over the last 3 days is the lack of Human excrement by the side of the road.  Let me explain.  Further south the roads edge was a vast latrine with people lined up in the early morning as far as the eye could see.  The consequence for me was the obligation to slalom between the turds when I was driven off the road by a speeding bus.  This is not pleasant experience.  But now further north this seems to have stopped and the roads edge is crap free.  Why is this?  Cultural?  Social?  Economic?  I don't understand.  But it's so much better, believe me!

Puri to Konark and Then to Bhubaneswar

The Journey from Puri to Konark and then to Bhubaneswar is not a long one but I decided to do it in two days.  So on the first leg I took my time, had a leisurely breakfast, said good-bye to my fellow travellers and set off.
I had met some really interesting people and I would like to take the opportunity to describe two of them.  They are both women, that's not because the men weren't interesting, but I have a particular admiration for solo women travellers.  For someone like me, 6' 3" and 85 kilos the dangers are much less than for them, yet both these ladies have travelled more than most of us ever have or I ever will.  Briannagh (spelling?) is 25 and from Australia.  She has already travelled to most of the Far East, India, Canada, Jordan, Mexico and a lot more besides.  She has done all this by working at any job that is available wherever she is.  She has a lust for travel which is incredible and plans to visit the Americas from north to south in the next year or so. Annie is probably in her 50's (sorry if I'm being unfair Annie) and has worked and travelled for the best part of her life.  She is a fund of advice and anecdotes from the135 countries she has already visited and she's not stopping there.  Next trip will take her through the "Stans" back towards Europe.  Over an evening of biriani she entertained us with her stories and advice to ladies when needing to pee out of an African brothel window (I kid you not) and other harrowing toilet tales (a traveller's favourite).  Bravo to these two and to all other intrepid adventurers.
I arrived in Konark, for what was my 2nd visit, in time for a very good lunch and then set off to explore the Sun Temple.  It is probably one of the best temples in India and is beautifully preserved in lush grounds.  The lighting at sunset is particularly effective.  This morning I started out for Bhubaneswar at 6am and arrived at 11am.  I would have been quicker but had a puncture on the way which took a bit of time to fix.  Once here I went out for a walk to visit the town, get a shave and find an Internet cafe.  I must have walked for miles, only to find both less than 50 meters apart in the street parallel to my hotel's.  Twas ever thus.

The Morning After the Night Before.

The morning after the night before was difficult for some of my fellow travellers.  Emerging from rooms, sporting shades and with that tentative gait of someone who is not sure of the ground, they gravitate towards the restaurant.  I won't name names here, as that would not be fair of me, but our young Australian friend, yet to be seen, who led the debauch has a lot to answer for.  He provided a bucket of cocktails and a bottle of rum to get the party started.  He was gererous to one and all and I am pretty sure the bucket even made the tour of the kitchen staff.  The two traveller groups did come together last night and under the influence of much alcohol, many splifs and innumerable chilums tales were told, friendships made and ideas exchanged.  Talk ranged from India to Israel, people to politics and from life to love.  Songs were sung and an impromptu jam session between a 100/- guitar and a bamboo didgeriedoo was as memorable as it was remarkable.   Our group included people from 25 to 52, of British, Isreali, Australian, Indian and South Korean extractions.  I don't think I have ever seen a better group of new and interesting people.  So in answer to my question of yesterday "Are there really two groups or will people join together to make a single group but with a wide range of types?", I reply yes, they did come together.  I don't think the younger ones are any different to the older ones.  They are more switched on perhaps to the technologies and the possibilities of social networking.  The older ones travel perhaps for shorter times for reasons of career and family.  Yet both groups are united by their love of travel for its own sake and of India, this amazing, frustrating, vast and beautiful place.

One of the Unfortunate Consequences of Progress.

One of the unfortunate consequences of progress is the demise of ISD or Internatonal Subsciber Dialing.  Once upon a time nobody had a mobile phone and to make an intenational call we used ISD.  There were ISD phones everywhere and keeping in touch with ones loved ones was easy.  Progress has killed off this system as everyone or nearly everyone has a mobile.  Little old ladies who you would think hadn't two rupees to rub together have them, chidren have them, brahmin priests have them, everybody has them.  I have one, but calling from here by mobile costs me a fortune because I have a foreign phone.  Being the old skinflint that I am I search in vain for a faded ISD sign and ask without much hope if they still have this service.  No I am told we don't do that anymore.  In the end my wife rings me from home on our house phone and it doesn't seem so bad.  Stupid really when you think who will be paying the bill.

The hotel where I am staying has had an influx of new guests.  We (and I include myself in the first group) seems to fall into two groups.  Firstly, the more mature ageing hippy types who have `done India` before and can talk of the things we have seen and the changes we have noticed.  We seem to travel alone but recognise kindred spirits when we see them.  The second group is young, often heavilly tatooed and of the more marginal nature.  They seem to know each other, either directly or from their facebook walls.  Their talk is of the places they know, of dope and the trips they plan.  Now that seems a little judgemental when you read it back, but I am not being so.  I am just writing down my impression of what I have seen yesterday and today.  What will be interesting will be tonight, when I hope both groups will be in the restaurant together.  Are there really two groups or will people join together to make a single group but with a wide range of types?  It is sure to be interesting.

Baywatch?